


Every Breath You Take

by DurinOfWinterfell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DurinOfWinterfell/pseuds/DurinOfWinterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Myrcella/Robb centered fic. Eventual other pairings. <br/>This is a story of how one woman changed the whole future of Westeros with one simple act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into ASoIaF with all my favourite ships. I'm going to apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes, despite the fact I'm English, I'm not the best with all that malarkey. This is what I think/want to happen in the next few books. All rights to characters etc. to George R.R. Martin.

Myrcella entered Winterfell’s gate with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. Although she grew up in King’s Landing she could not help but be astonished by the sheer sight of Winterfell. It’s beautiful, she thought, it looks as if it has been here for thousands of years and will be for another thousand. It was such a contrast to the Red Keep with the fresh air and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchens. Myrcella leapt of her horse with enthusiasm to join her father to greet the Starks. Lord Eddard stood surrounded by his children, all with red hair and startling blue eyes except one, and wife, Lady Catelyn. They all bowed in the presence of the royal family. Myrcella couldn't help but feel a little bit embarrassed as she felt a blush appearing on her cheeks. As they rose, she caught the eye of who must’ve been the eldest Stark child. She gasped. His blue eyes were boring into her own green ones. He was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen. His red hair was darker than that of his siblings but not brown like one of them, was short but still slightly curly and though he was clean shaven, she couldn't help but wonder if he would be even more handsome with facial hair. His jaw line was sharp like his cheekbones and he left her breathless. She quickly looked away, a blush arsing on her cheeks.   
“Princess Myrcella, the pleasure is all mine.” His voice was husky, and his hands calloused as his took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Seven hells, she thought, they’re soft. She was in deep trouble.  
“Um… Th-thank you, my lord…” Damn her, why couldn't she talk without stuttering. The Seven knew she was a massive flirt, but now she couldn't even talk.  
“Robb, if it please you. May I escort you inside princess?” He asked. But in that moment her mother decided to ruin the moment.   
“Myrcella, here now.” She hissed at her. Myrcella pulled away from Robb, flushed. “I will not have you throw yourself at that Stark boy like a common harlot”. And with that, Cersei whisked Myrcella away with the two princes.

 

 

Robb was dreading the royal visit. One he would have to meet the royal children and be polite to them. He would be expected to mingle especially with the heir, Prince Joffrey. Two, there would be even more people in Winterfell than before. Three, his sister was more than likely to be betrothed to the right royal arsehole. No, he was not going to enjoy this visit. When the Stark brood were lined up to greet the King and royal family, he was not expecting to be shocked by the princess. She was riding a horse, rather than in the wheelhouse, her golden hair streaming behind her with snowflakes melting in it. She was laughing, a sweet laugh, and it lit up her emerald eyes. She leapt off her horse, much to the disapproval to Cersei Lannister, the queen. He greeted her with common courtesy with his heart pounding in his chest and he felt a blush creep up his neck. Thank the old gods and new he had a scarf on. As the queen left with the princes and the princess, Robb felt a hand clap upon his shoulders.  
“Well Stark,” drawled a deep voice that could only belong to Theon, “Only got eyes for the princess? The lion bitch won’t like that.”  
“Shut it Greyjoy.” Robb hadn’t realised that he’d been staring at Myrcella so openly and now he was aware of it, his blush crept up again rising to his cheeks. Theon only laughed and walked off, leaving him to his own thoughts which to his pleasure led back to her eyes.

 

 

Myrcella had been made to bathe and change her dress for the feast. Least there would be dancing, she thought. She decided to put on a black wool dress with gold detailing, her father’s colours. This would make her mother very angry as she normally made Myrcella wear reds and golds of Lannister. The queen never allowed her to wear Baratheon colours, which was ridiculous as she was a Baratheon not Lannister, and this dress was a nameday present from her Uncle Renly. She smoothed the fabrics with her hands and set about her hair. Her golden hair was drying and was curling gently as her hands wove her hair into a northern style, again to her mother’s displeasure who favoured the more intricate styles of the south. She sighed. Gods, it was going to be a long night. She stared into the looking glass admiring her hair, and her thoughts began to drift to that red haired, blue eyed man. A knock interrupted her train of thoughts and she leapt up suddenly. She smoothed her dress again and went to open the door. Ser Arys stood there with his mouth slightly open, in shock.  
“P-princess…” he stuttered, “Your mother, she won’t approve.” He offered his arm and led Myrcella down the hall.  
“I know that! I just thought I would honour the Starks, leave the crimsons for the Kings Landing.” Myrcella exclaimed, laughing at his expression. Ser Arys couldn’t help but laugh along with her as he escorted to the ante chamber to the great hall. Tommen squealed when he saw her in a very un-princely and ran to hug her. Well, she thought, at least one of her younger brother was pleased to see her. Joffrey looked down on her, despite his age. He looked exactly like Uncle Jaime, and she looked like her mother, therefore making them as similar as twins in everything but age. All three Lannister children had the golden hair and green eyes, with none of her father’s features.   
“What in seven hell are you wearing?” hissed her mother, glaring at her.  
“It’s called a dress mother, I wear one every day in case you hadn't noticed.” Replied Myrcella, in an almost sing-song like way just to irritate her mother. She’d often been told that she had her mother’s looks, King Robert’s manner, Renly’s charm and Uncle Tyrion’s wit and humour. Part of her wanted to annoy her mother with her dress and hair but another to impress the Northerners to prove she wasn't just a pretty air-headed Southron princess. Her mother flushed an ugly red and glared at her with bulging eyes. Just at the moment the Stark brood entered to escort the royal family into the hall. Lord Eddard offered the queen his arm which she accepted grudgingly, and her father offered his to Lady Catelyn with a beaming smile. Robb walked over to her and offered his arm. She gulped and placed her hand lightly onto the crook of his elbow. His hand immediately cover hers and pressed down.  
“I want to know that you’re there, princess.” He whispered hoarsely into her ear. Myrcella flushed and her hand gripped harder. She looked behind her to see that Joffrey had Sansa, who was giggling at something he had said. Poor girl, she thought, she doesn't know what she is doing. Tommen and Arya followed behind those two, both looking thoroughly miserable. Following those two were the younger Stark boys. Robb followed her gaze and immediately his eyes narrowed when they landed upon on Joffrey and Sansa. She shook her head at his big brother antic, giggling to herself.  
“What is so funny? Princess.” He growled. Damn him, and his voice. She cleared her throat.  
“You’re giving my brother the ‘hurt my sister, I’ll hurt you’ look. Don’t worry, I’ll hurt him too. Your sister doesn’t deserve a royal prick like him!” she giggled again, his expression was one of shock.  
“You just called your own brother a prick?” he spluttered, looking shocked.  
“A royal one at that, my lord. He really is a vile little prick,” She replied, laughing. He really was adorable as well as handsome. “Come on, we’ve got to go! We’re already lagging behind!” It was true. Lord and Lady Stark and the king and queen had already gone into the hall, leaving Robb and Myrcella to lead the way. Robb looked startled and dragged her into the hall, whilst she was laughing. Gods, she thought, let’s hope there is dancing, he needs to let go a bit, as she walked into the hall with the eyes of every north man watching their future lord with the beautiful princess hanging onto his arm.


	2. The Bear and the Maiden Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update this chapter on Sunday like I said, I started school again on Monday and I've been really busy. However, better late than never! Any grammar or spelling mistakes are all mine, and hope you enjoy.

Myrcella was oblivious to everyone stares, only having eyes for one person in that room. Robb led her up to the top table next to her uncle Tyrion.  
“Uncle! You actually made it to dinner, I'm impressed.” Myrcella mocked, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.   
“My sweet niece you wound me. Of course I would go to dinner, your mother bid me to,” replied Tyrion in the same mocking tone as Myrcella. “And you must be Robb, heir to Winterfell. My, you’re a handsome one. Be careful not to ruin my niece, for you would face the wroth of my dear sister.” He grinned at Robb, who paled slightly at Tyrion’s words.   
“Uncle.” Myrcella sounded exasperated.  
Just then the food was brought out, serving first the king then everyone else. Robb played the perfect gentleman, offering Myrcella the best cuts of meat which he sliced off with his own dagger and offering her the best dishes from the kitchens. The food was completely different to the south, which had light airy meals rich with spice compared to the heavy meals of the North. Myrcella found the food a pleasant surprise and a welcome change. During the 5th course which consisted of lemon cakes, to Sansa’s delight Myrcella observed, she wondered if there would be dancing later. She had spied some singers from her vantage point on the top table, so in her eyes, there must be dancing! Myrcella loved to dance but never got to do much down in the capital due to her mother. Cersei believed that she couldn’t dance with anyone unless she was betrothed and only then could she dance with him. Myrcella often practised on her own in her room, without the knowledge of her mother, with Renly who was always willing to dance with his golden girl. She had practised often when she found out they were going to Winterfell, as she wanted to impress the Northerners to prove she wasn’t just a pretty little girl whose head was filled with stories of Jonquil and Florian, who did needlework day in and day out. She wanted to shock the Northerners. Myrcella wanted to prove that she was headstrong woman, independent from her mother who can do what she like. After the last course was served and finished, one of the singers came forth and began to play his harp. Her father had offered his hand to Lady Catelyn, who accepted with a smile on her face and rose gracefully from her seat. That left Lord Eddard to lead her mother to the middle of the floor. Myrcella could see her mother visibly grimace and she grudgingly accepted the Lord of Winterfell’s hands. She watched as the royal family danced with the Starks. It was custom for the first dance just to be the four of them, and as the song came to end she saw other couples begin to rise from the seats. When the song had finished everyone clapped and others began to swoop down onto the floor. The queen had returned to her seat along with the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Her father had disappeared into the crowds below the top table, probably to find some serving wench thought Myrcella bitterly. That’s when she heard a cough.  
“Um- my princess? D-do you want. I-I mean w-would you honour me-” stuttered Robb, sounding completely flustered. She looked up to see a flush creeping up his neck and she smirked.  
“Your princess? Of course I will honour you with a dance!” she exclaimed, practically bounding out of her seat and grabbed his hand. 

Robb’s eyes widened as he was dragged onto the dance floor by a bundle of energy. Then he grinned, realising who he was about to dance with. Her green eyes sparkled as they stood in position, and the music started up. The Bear and the Maiden Fair. Everyone dancing spun and twirled around the dance floor. Robb remarked that though Myrcella wasn’t the best dancer but her enthusiasm made it so. She had stood on his toes and he had been hit in the eye by a loose bit of hair. He couldn’t help but laugh along with her as he spun her round for the last time. The song had ended and bowed deeply to Myrcella. The whole hall had burst into cat-calling, clapping and crude humour. Myrcella was flushed, a pretty pink on her cheeks. Her hair was spilling out of its braid, unruly gold curls falling down her back and her emerald eyes shone with excitement. His felt his throat close up as Myrcella continued to dance. She was dancing with Theon, he felt a pang jealousy spread through him like wildfire. Every time his hands landed on her small waist he couldn’t help but want to hurt Theon. However he did appreciate the view now, admiring her perfectly formed body as she twisted and turned. Her laugh was melodious and contagious. He couldn’t help but grin whenever she laughed. The song had changed again and now she was dancing with Bran and Rickon.  
“You know, she’s never been this free in all her life.” A voice behind him said. Robb turned with a tankard in his hands to face a Robert Baratheon look alike. A second longer staring made him realise that this was not Robert but his younger brother Renly, Myrcella’s uncle.  
“W-what, really? She seems at home on the floor” replied Robb.  
“I’ve been teaching her. Cersei wouldn’t allow her daughter to be taught so I took it upon myself to teach her. I mean a highborn, especially a royal princess, being unable to dance? Unheard of. Especially coming to Winterfell, she seemed even more determined to dance.” Renly laughed, watching Myrcella, Bran and Rickon collapse in a heap on the floor. Robb followed his eye line and began to laugh before rushing over to help her up.

“Princess?” queried Robb, looking down on her with his hand stretched down. She flushed, embarrassed that she was in the position that she was. Tonight she vowed that she wouldn’t make herself look a fool in front of Robb, yet she had. Cursing inwardly, Myrcella took his hand and allowed Robb to help her up.  
“Thank you, my lord. I fear your brothers were a little enthusiastic.” She told him, looking down at her feet.   
“Well, they’re never allowed to stay up this late so they may be more than a little excited,” he said knowingly. “Another dance, princess?”  
She grinned like a fool and nodded. Robb grinned back, rather wolfishly thought Myrcella as they made their around the dance floor. They were dancing their 4th dance of the evening when Ser Arys made his way over to the happy pair.  
“A-hem, princess?” Myrcella spun around and saw her bodyguard, looking down at her with a slight smile.  
“Yes Ser?” she asked sweetly, smiling demurely at him.  
“Your mother, the queen has bid you to go back to your chambers. She said something about disgracing the Lannister name and you behaving like a wildling.” He replied, with his smile growing with every word he said.  
“Well, I best go then. Goodnight my lord, I will see you on the morrow?” she asked, rather hopefully with desperation in her voice.  
“Of course, princess. On the morrow.” Robb replied, looking slightly pissed off that she was leaving and that made her smile. He kissed her hand and bid her goodnight.   
Myrcella and Ser Arys made their way back to her chambers where the queen was waiting. Cersei Lannister was a formidable woman, but now as Myrcella grew older she saw her mother was not as frightening as she thought she was.  
“You dare disgrace the Lannister name? Dancing with every man in that room and practically throwing yourself at the young wolf with Tully colouring.” Cersei hissed at Myrcella.   
“Mother, it was expected of me. A royal princess rarely visits the North, give them a show you always told me. Well this was the opening.” And with that, Cersei raised her hand and slapped Myrcella with all her might. Myrcella’s head jerked back with the sheer force and felt tears spring in her eyes. No, she thought, don’t let them fall. She didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction.  
“You don’t dress in your colours, wear your hair like these savages and behaving like a wildling.” Her mother stated, frustrated.  
“Well mother, I’m a Baratheon. Black and gold are my colours, not red and gold. My hair is mine, not what you want it to look like. And with that, I bid you good night mother. I will see you on the morrow.” Retorted Myrcella as she stalked into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. She lay on her bed, fully clothed and sighed. Her thoughts kept drifting to Robb, his eyes, his ruddy curls and strong hands on her waist.   
“Boy, I am in trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I won't make any promises when this next gets updating but I will update when I can. See you all on the other side. Valar morghulis.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully it will be updated every Sunday but I can't promise anything!


End file.
